


Sucker

by fine_feathered



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 06:30:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fine_feathered/pseuds/fine_feathered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angels rule the world, only a few patches of humanity cling stubbornly for survival on the outskirts of civilization. Castiel is the CFO of the powerful Arch Industries and is renowned for his cool, merciless manner in both his professional and personal life. Despite this he despairs the fear he inspires in others. Yet one night this is challenged by the appearance of a creature meant to be extinct, a Sanguis. The very name evokes fear and terror in angels as it is a creature that lives and thrives off angel blood. One of these creatures, named Dean, targets Castiel and tries to bend him to his will, to use him for some motive that Castiel can only guess at.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Chase

**Author's Note:**

> Hints of dub-con (alcohol & special vamp saliva!).  
> Will be updated weekly or fortnightly, comments help. ;)

The lights of the bar were dim; they highlighted the barest edges of things – the glasses and bottles filled with alcohol, the beads of perspiration that slipped down the expensive crystal glasses and the outlines of the wings that protruded from the back of every individual in the room. 

Castiel sighed and took another swing from his drink; let the amber liquid run hot and heady down his gullet. He closed his eyes with resignation.

“Fancy a top up?”

Castiel glanced up from the fan of his eyelashes at the icy blue eyes of the bartender. “I shouldn’t, should I Balthazar?” Castiel murmured as he tipped his glass towards him and let the ball of ice clink. Balthazar shrugged his pale blonde wings, “I don’t think another would hurt Cassie.”

At that Castiel nodded and let Balthazar tip the neck of the bottle to his glass and he absentmindedly watched as the ice floated back to the brim. “Bad break up?”

Castiel snorted derisively at the question, “No, just stress from work.”

The answer resulted in a pitying sort of coo from Balthazar as he leaned his elbows on the immaculately clean black marble. “You are far too pretty, rich and young to not have legions of angels chasing after you.” 

Whether it’s the fresh burn of the alcohol or his attitude Castiel let out a laugh, “I wish, but everyone except you, Anna and my brother are afraid of me.” 

Balthazar bit his lip; gaze going to the empty seats next to Castiel, as though there was some bubble that surrounded the angel that prevented anyone from getting too close. “They just don’t know you. All they see is the CFO of Arch Industries – the angel of ice that has allowed the company to swallow any competitor. The company that holds a monopoly on just about everything we need or want. Cassie, when people see you, they see that image. If they piss you off, well…you aren’t known for your mercy.”

Castiel let the words sink under his skin, agitate wounds that were already there. “Yes, my plan to dominate the world is nearly complete.” He uttered out, morose.

“Why don’t you talk to some PR people? Get them to give you a brand new image.” Balthazar hums low in his throat, “How about,” At this he raises a hand and splays his fingers dramatically, “Castiel, the angel with a heart of gold, friendly, amicable, charming, charismatic.” Castiel arched a brow, “I think you are forgetting I already have a brother who fills that position in the company, and his name is Michael.”

That said Castiel stole a long swig from his glass. Even with his fortitude he could feel the alcohol dampening his energy. But still the numbness wasn’t complete and so Castiel drained the last of his drink and bit back the cough that itched at the base of his throat.

“See you later Cassie.”

Castiel gave Balthazar a small wave of his hand as he hopped off the plump bar stool and made his way to the door. A few curious eyes watched his as he passed. When the door opened the cool air bit some sense back into him and he instinctively tugged his trench coat closer to his body. He walked along the sidewalk, slow and methodical. He should really call a cab, or his chauffer but with a sigh he realised, that even though it was silly, if he avoided going home, this night would go on. He wouldn’t have to go to work tomorrow, slip the mask of calculating, cold CFO back on – right now he was just another angel, a little drunk and more than a little maudlin.

The footpath was wet and he slipped off it slightly and into the puddle on the road. Castiel swore and staggered back to the middle of the path. 

“Help…”

Castiel stilled at the voice. It had come from a dark alley to his left; the streetlight closest to him flickered and after a moment, died. Despite himself, he called out. “Hello?”

“Please…”

Castiel’s body moved of its own volition towards the source of the voice and he once again blamed the alcohol for his courage. At the entrance of the alleyway he made out a set of boots. His hand dug into his pocket as he reached for his cell phone. 

Castiel squinted into the darkness; he brought out his phone and unlocked it with a practiced swipe of his thumb over the screen. The poor cool light did little to illuminate the owner of the voice and so Castiel, with a hard swallow, kneeled down and looked closer.

Lightning fast the man latched onto the lapels of his trench coat and dragged him down onto him. Castiel pushed back; reached for the sensitive joint where wing meets back to get the attacker of him…and instead found his fingers slide down the thick cotton jacket and met nothing. There was confusion for a moment, bright amongst the panic. 

There were no humans left in the whole state, they had been driven north, to the mountains. Small, stubborn clusters that refused to be rooted out and squashed. The other alternative did not seem at all possible. The man leaned forward; Castiel froze as he felt his warm breath on the side of his neck.

Castiel heaved out a breath; “I have someone coming to pick me up any moment now.” The man laughed, though the sound was mirthless. “You’re a terrible liar.” 

Castiel struggled anew, pushed against the man’s chest but found his strength lacking. With every feeble attempt to pull away the man only crushed him tighter to his body, until Castiel was forced forwards onto his knees, practically straddling his attacker.

Castiel’s breath came in short sharp bursts, even with the alcohol; he should be stronger than a human. Unless… 

The man’s mouth was back at his neck, he felt a warm wet presence lap at his throat. “There’s no point in struggling sweet heart.”

Castiel closed his eyes, felt himself shiver with fear. “You’re a…”

“A Sanguis. I know.”

A monster straight out of myths and horror movies.

The monster that had been at the top of the food chain for thousands of years, which drank the blood of angels.

Castiel immediately withheld his breath, bottled his lungs tight. How much of the creature’s scent had he already inhaled? He was already weak enough from alcohol _and_ now this creature would only worsen that.  The creature slid his knee over Castiel’s groin, soft, gentle pressure. “Don’t be scared Castiel, I’m not going to kill you.”

“How do you know my name?” He blurted out, eyes wide.

The Sanguis moved back slightly from Castiel’s neck and grinned, eyes bright as green bottle glass seen through the sun. “Does it matter?”

Castiel stared into the Sanguis’ eyes and then drew his head back slightly, then crashed the top of his forehead against the Sanguis’ nose. The creature yelped in pain as Castiel disentangled himself and hurried to stand up and then arch his grand black wings in a display of aggression. He noted his phone was on the floor next to the Sanguis. He could not risk it. Instead he turned and ran, the ends of his coat snapped at the back of his calves as he fled.

He heard the Sanguis’ boots scuff the cement as he launched himself after him. Castiel’s throat burned with the cold, if he could muster enough energy to run a little faster, he could perhaps fly to one of the balconies or railings above. Castiel beat his wings against the air to propel himself forward, internally cursing all the while the extra glass of hard scotch that sloshed about in his gut.

A car drove past, its amber headlights landed on Castiel. He stepped out onto the road and held out his hands. The car screeched to a halt and Castiel breathed out a sigh of relief. He spun around and peered back into the darkness. The Sanguis was gone.  

The car door opened and Castiel bent over to gulp in breaths of air. “Are you okay Mister?” Castiel nodded and turned to face the angel. She was a young girl with long brown hair. Nothing about her stood out, Castiel coolly assessed. Her wings were small, her eyes plain and stature average. Yet all the same, with fear still pumping through his veins he was truly grateful. “Thank you for stopping.”

“Well I couldn’t run you over could I?” She paused for a moment, “Are you…? Castiel Novak?” Castiel nodded but ignored her apparent fright and instead held out his hand, “Could I borrow your phone?”

She nodded and sedately handed over her cheap, old Nokia, Castiel didn’t realise people still used these brick like devices anymore. Never the less, he phoned his personal assistant, “Anna, could you bring the car a few block East of Balthazar’s Bar?”

 

+++

 

It wasn’t long before Anna had arrived in Castiel’s gun metal grey Aston Martin Vantage, it was unusual for her to drive but Castiel didn’t question the fact as he opened the passenger side door and slipped inside.

At once Anna steered away from the curb and drove down the quiet outer city road. Castiel could feel Anna’s eyes on him as she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He ignored her as he rested his chin in the palm of his hand and stared out of his window. Finally, Anna asked her question. “What happened? You didn’t sound…you, on the phone.”

Castiel let out a sigh, he still wasn’t sure whether to tell the truth or not. That a Sanguis attacked him was nothing short of ridiculous, they had been wiped out over two hundred years ago. They were as long lived as angels though; perhaps this one had slipped free from the worldwide extermination program. Castiel though, hated lies.

“A group of young angels wanted my wallet, thought I was drunker than I actually was.” Castiel swallowed down the lie, continued to stare out the fogged passenger side window. Anna seemed to accept the lie as she shook her head and turned to bore a stare into Castiel as she stopped at a red light, “You have more money than you could ever spend and yet you wouldn’t give them your wallet? I thought you were smarter than that.”

Castiel faced Anna, expression stony and eyes cold, “You speak too freely.”

Anna floored the accelerator as the lights changed; made the car hum and thunder as she quickly shifted gears. “Stop blustering. That might work on most people, but I know that deep down you really don’t have a stick up your ass.” Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose. “Be quiet then.” The buzz from the alcohol had turned into an acidic bile at the back of his tongue, sharpened by the encounter from the Sanguis and Anna’s biting remarks, normally welcomed for the way they cut through to the point, were not at all appreciated tonight. Not with the fear that still clung to him. Perhaps he should report the Sanguis, make a call to the chief of police. He had met the man before, Raphael, he was a hard unforgiving angel – traits most praised and why he had been chosen for the elected position. Castiel though, believed mercy; at least a little, was more important for an angel in his position. Without the decision made, Castiel’s reverie was broken as he looked out of the windscreen and up at the silver gates of his manor home.

Under the headlights of the Aston, the gardens and the tall stonewalls were foreboding but Castiel was grateful for them. A Sanguis surely could not scale them. Anna pressed the button in the car and the gate slide open soundlessly and the Aston rolled up the paved path to the manor. It was a very old building, one of the first houses built in New Eden. It was composed out of grey limestone with decorative turrets that jutted into the dark sky and even at night, the hint of ivy and the flowers that climbed the façade were visible. Castiel stepped out of the car, and threw over his shoulder to Anna. “I need you to get me a new cell phone tomorrow and terminate the contract on my old one.”

Anna raised an eyebrow but said nothing as she locked the car door. Castiel strode up the steps to his home and pushed open one of the large wooden doors. The interior was dark and his footsteps echoed over the cool white stone floors. His eyesight however was sufficient enough for him to find the staircase and the way to his room. Castiel passed many rooms, precious ornaments on small decorative tables and stunning works of art in gilded frames. When he finally reached his room he quickly closed the door behind him and sunk down onto his king sized bed. He looked down at his hands and despised how they shook. He really wished he was as icy and as impenetrable as people perceived him, right at this moment.

Castiel shook his head, pinched the back of his hand and resolved himself to be rid of this nonsense. Standing up he shrugged out of his trench coat, slipped the coat over his wings and let it drop to the floor. Next he toed off his shoes and stood in his crisp white shirt, black trousers and socks. He spotted the brandy decanter across from him. He chewed his lower lip. He had work tomorrow, he should resist, any more and he risked a hang over and that would simply not do. With a lowly spoken Enochian curse he crossed the room and poured himself a glass of the aged spirit. He put the glass to his lips, hesitated for a moment then tipped it back. Immediately the alcohol took affect, Castiel felt his wings droop and he sighed in pleasure. The shivers that had persisted faded to nothing. Without bothering to switch on a light Castiel opened the French doors to his balcony and stood on the cusp of the Persian rug. The night air washed over him and with every sip of his drink he felt a little better.

At the very least he would not go back to Balthazar’s for some time and apologise later for his lack of patronage. There was a clatter in the gardens below. Castiel stepped out onto the balcony to gaze down onto the grassed lawns. A cat with golden eyes stopped as it crossed the top of a trellis, it let out a plaintive yowl and then scurried away. Castiel let out a sigh and placed a hand on his chest to calm his heart as it raced. He finished off the last of his brandy and moved back into his room. He closed the doors and flicked the lock. Castiel stripped himself of his clothes, kept on only his boxer briefs on as he threw back the sheets, comfortable but expensive cotton, seemingly at odds with the opulence of the rest of the house and slipped under them.

Castiel squeezed his eyes closed, rolled onto his belly and stuffed his arms and hands under his plush pillow. The room was warm, even in autumn thanks to the state of the art heating system in the spacious house. So when he felt the breeze, heard the squeak of the French doors, he froze. Had he not locked them? Carefully he turned his head but he saw nothing. The doors were closed.

With a self-depreciating groan Castiel burrowed his face into his pillows and let the drag of the alcohol ferry him to sleep.

He was just slipping under when he felt a warm hand press itself to the back of his neck. He tried to slide out from under the hand but another fastened itself to the joint where wing met shoulder, and a body sat atop of the small of his back. “Don’t panic Castiel…Cas…do you mind if I call you Cas? All you angels have really long names, you noticed that?”

Castiel struggled anew, opened his mouth to scream but was stopped when fingers tangled into his hair and yanked his face up. Once more he felt the warm breath of the Sanguis wash over the shell of his ear and the faint brush of his lips as he spoke. “Scream and I’ll kill you an I _really_ don’t want to. You are much more use to me alive.”

Castiel swallowed and tried to turn his head to get another glimpse of the Sanguis’ face. “Damn you creature, what do you want with me?”

The Sanguis chuckled low and dangerous in his throat as he once again licked along the tense tendon in his neck but this time there was the sharp nip of teeth. The stories of a Sanguis’ canines were not exaggerated, Castiel noted to himself clinically. 

“You can call me Dean by the way.” 

Then there was a breathy sigh from Dean and the roll of his hips in the small dip of Castiel’s spine. “I can’t tell you what I want yet. I have to win you over first don’t I?”

Castiel licked his lips, he was afraid he was going to vomit. All of the stories of the brutality of the Sanguis’ came to mind; the way they drank the blood of angels, how their scent was like a heady wine that slowly sapped away an angel’s strength, how their saliva was an aphrodisiac, how they delighted in ripping off an angel’s wings like a fledgling would an insect, how they could twist an angel and subvert them to their will – use them however they wanted. Castiel always believed them to be bedtime stories, to scare fledglings into behaving. These stories created a tangible fear at the base of his throat. “You’ll not win me over creature-“

“-Dean.” The Sanguis corrected.

Castiel ignored him and continued, “You may as well drain me dry, rip off my wings, whatever it is you take delight in.”

Castiel felt the huff of the Sanguis, the continued erotic roll of his hips. “Don’t be like that. We don’t have to do this the hard way. Though, actually.” With a particularly hard thrust of his hips, Castiel shuddered as he felt Dean’s erection run along the naked line of his spine.

“I don’t want you to be scared of me, I’m not going to hurt you songbird, okay?”

Castiel didn’t relax. “Oh?”

Dean stopped the roll of his hips; he sat on Castiel, silent for a moment before he chose to speak. “You’ve probably heard stories right? How evil the Sanguis were, that we would rape angels, eat fledglings raw and suck the marrow from the cracked joints of their wings. I’m not like that.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, though he knew that Dean couldn’t see from his angle. ”You are not doing much to prove that.”

Dean hummed in acceptance of that. “Okay then, let me prove it to you. But if you scream, I’ll make good on my promise. Capiche?”

“Yeah, I capiche.”

That was sufficient for Dean as Castiel felt the weight of his body shift and then slide off him completely. Quick as he was able Castiel flipped himself over and slid off the other side of the bed. He stared across the mattress at Dean. He could not read Dean due to the absence of his wings. Instinctively Castiel looked for the emotions of another in the way they held their wings, if their feathers were bristled or flattened, if there was a tense line that ran through the arch. Yet Sanguis, and humans, did not have wings – they could therefore not be trusted as they concealed their emotions and intentions too well.

Dean spread his arms, “So am I everything you hoped me to be?” He smiled as he spoke and there was the subtle glint of an elongated canine that sent a shiver down Castiel’s spine. “Yes.” He made in reply.

Dean frowned, “I got off you didn’t I?”

Castiel crossed his arms over his chest, to hide how his hands shook. “You threatened to kill me if I called for help.”

Dean shrugged nonchalantly, “Sorry, I gotta preserve the species don’t I? So I can’t have you calling the cavalry to execute me.”

“Yes what a shame that would be.” Castiel remarked coolly as he slowly began to take a step back. Dean narrowed his eyes at the movement and playfully wagged a finger. “Don’t move songbird.”

And Castiel oh he wished he could move to turn on his heel and run from the room, but the words stuck him in place. Dean smirked at the obvious confusion that marred the angel’s face as he began to lope over to Castiel.

“You’ve got my scent now. That’s why I was on top of you – to let it soak in. Works particularly well on virgins by the way.” Dean paused and let out a quiet, mocking roll of laugher, “You aren’t a virgin are you?” Despite himself, Castiel blushed.

“Ha! You are, aren’t you? And you’re one of the richest angel’s in the entire world. You could buy just about anyone you wished and fuck ‘em. Or is it a religious thing?” Dean added with a grimace.

Once more, compelled, Castiel spoke. “No, it’s not a religious thing.” After the words had spilled forth he clamped his palm over his mouth.

Now Dean was right in front of him and he gently placed his hand over Castiel’s and drew it away from his lips. “This isn’t going to hurt. You’ll like this…and there’s no need to worry, I’m not going to drain you.” Castiel stared into the slitted catlike eyes of the Sanguis and once more, for only the second time in his life he was deathly afraid. Dean placed the pad of his thumb against Castiel’s lips and it was that contact that broke Castiel free from the spell, he stumbled backwards and into the bedside table, which sent the glass lamp off the table. It landed with a crash on the floorboards. There was a tense pause and then, a voice from within the house.

“Are you alright sir?”

Castiel never even saw Dean move, but he felt the air rush out of his lungs, the hard wall meet his back with a dull thud and the prick of Dean’s fangs against his throat. “Say you’re fine, or I’ll rip out your throat.”

Pink darted out across Castiel’s lips as he wetted them. “I’m fine Uriel!” He called with a voice that sounded weak and tinny. Despite that he heard the door to Uriel’s room, downstairs, close with a soft click.

Dean sighed, and Castiel felt him melt against him. “Good.”

Dean leaned away from him to allow Castiel to stand free from the wall. Dean tried again and put his thumb to Castiel’s chin. With terror still hot inside him Castiel didn’t move, a deer in the headlights, and watched dumbly as Dean pressed his lips against his. It was a simple chaste brush that asked for nothing, though he felt he barest hint of Dean’s tongue trail wet over his lips. Subconsciously, Castiel licked his lips and swallowed the saliva with its aphrodisiac qualities.

And it took Castiel a moment to realise he was the one who asked for more when he leaned forward and kissed Dean again. Dean opened his lips, let Castiel’s tongue slide against his. Castiel groaned felt himself go weak in the knees at the taste of Dean’s mouth, it was sweeter than honey. He chased the taste, deepened the kiss and Dean battled for dominance in the desperation that Castiel evoked.

Castiel parted when his lungs began to burn too fiercely for air. He panted and stared at Dean and quickly he pulled his hands away – hands that had found Dean’s hips during the kiss. Meanwhile Dean only smiled, pleased. “You are one hell of a kisser. You’ve done that before at least.”

Dean grabbed his shoulders and guided him towards the bed and Castiel fell onto it when the backs of his knees met the frame. He stared up at Dean. “I don’t want this, do I?” He asked as the white noise in his head made it hard to think.

Dean snickered and leaned down to plant small kitten licks and pecks of his lips along the exposed line of Castiel’s throat and down along his collarbone. “Then tell me to leave.” He murmured against the angel’s skin.

All Castiel could muster was a small plaintive whine. With a gentle forcefulness, Dean pushed Castiel down onto the mattress. Dean licked a wet stripe down Castiel’s naked chest, laved over his nipples and teased with the sharp point of his canine over the nub till the left one tingled was hot and pink. Castiel gasped and moaned at the treatment, felt himself buck up against Dean’s body who hung over him. Dean buried his fingers in the long silken feathers of Castiel’s wings, used his short nails to rake on the soft skin, which drew out an agonized moan of delight. “You like that huh?”

Castiel nodded, too weak, too light headed to speak properly. Dean turned his attention to Castiel’s wings. He massaged the muscles and felt the inherent tenseness leach away. They fanned out completely to show Castiel’s most vulnerable, sensitive parts of himself. At this display Dean growled and pressed his jeans against Castiel’s thigh. “Fuck.” He whispered as he reached down to palm himself, which left only one hand to massage along the thick band of muscles at the top of Castiel’s left wing. There was the hiss of Dean’s zipper being undone and Castiel froze. Dean hushed him, kissed his mouth and let Castiel taste the sweetness of him again. Castiel keened with pleasure into the kiss as he felt Dean’s fingers brush the nub of his oil gland. Dean broke the kiss and looked down into Castiel’s glazed blue eyes as he massaged the gland. “You’ve not been looking after yourself songbird. You’re so full of oil, you ain’t got nobody to look after you.” Dean murmured lowly, Southern drawl spicing his words. “Let me look after you.” To punctuate the point Dean gave a particularly hard squeeze and Castiel moaned, loud, and rolled his hips into Dean. Oil ran hot and sticky over Dean’s fingers and he raised them to his lips, smeared them over the kiss-swollen curves and purred at the taste.

With spit and oil on his fingers he brushed them over Castiel’s wings, and moved across Castiel, trailing his hand as he did so over Castiel’s chest to his right wing. He started on the other gland and all Castiel could do was pant, whole body alight with pleasure, nerves singing and cock hard and pushing against the fabric of his briefs. “Please, please,” He begged and Dean lowered his head and sucked at the oil gland, wrapped his lips around it.

At this Castiel tossed his head back and his lips parted with a silent scream, he felt the knot of tension in his belly unfurl and he felt himself come with jerk after violent jerk of his hips. Dean though, was relentless, he continued to mouth at the gland, to let the oil coat his chin and let the excess run over Castiel’s wings and made them shine. Castiel was still hard; the head of his cock was wet and dripped with his release, despite never being touched. “I can’t, I can’t come again.”

Dean’s words were assured. “You can.”

Dean planted another kiss to Castiel’s lips, let him taste his own oil and Castiel licked and bit at Dean’s lips, the taste of himself with Dean’s own addictive scent mingled to create a heady mixture. 

Dean’s hand sped up on his cock, free from his jeans, which had fallen low on his hips. Castiel emboldened by the buzz of his orgasm reached up and ran his palm over Dean, creating a sweet friction along the engorged vein on the underside of his cock.

Dean stilled and with a broken gasp he came. Castiel didn’t care when he felt the hot strings of come land on his stomach, paint the edges of his wings and mark his bed sheets. Instead, he reveled in it, reveled in the smell of the musk and spice, nothing like the damp unpleasant odour that humans and even some angels emitted.

Dean pulled in deep breaths and swallowed. “I’ve still got to make you come again songbird, really make you sing.”

Castiel nodded and watched as Dean crawled lower, eyes on his face till his chin, which still glistened with oil, was over his groin. Dean slipped a finger under the elastic band and Castiel turned his head to the side and bit his lip. He couldn’t scream, he was told not to scream – though it hurt not to, to not let out the unbearable pleasure somehow. 

He felt the cold air meet his cock and cool the come on the flushed head. Castiel bit down on his lip a little harder. Dean’s lips brushed against his cock, mouthed over the head and the tip of his tongue dipped into the slit at the head of his cock. Castiel squeezed his eyes closed as the lust made his toes curl in the blankets. Dean lapped at his cock, teased Castiel for the moment when the hot wet suction of his mouth finally closed over him. Castiel screamed in his throat but kept his lips sealed as he bucked up into the hot press of Dean’s mouth. Dean didn’t seem to mind the rough treatment as he began a rhythm, let his lips slide down Castiel’s length even as the angel bucked up into him. Castiel was totally mindless, he had never felt such abandon, such loss of control – he was used to having the power, but now that was gone and he couldn’t care less. He thrust his cock along the velveteen slide of Dean’s tongue as Dean hollowed his cheeks and sucked, made wet noises that filled the room. Then, Dean hummed, purred, whatever it was, it was the thing that finished Castiel off as he arched off the bed and splayed his wings to their full length as he spilled into Dean’s mouth. And Dean, he never moved kept his lips sealed around the base of Castiel’s cock and drank in his essence.

Castiel bit down hard on his lip, tasted the bitter ozone of his blood.

Dean pulled off his cock with a lurid wet pop and he moved up the bed. A hand snaked out and held Castiel’s throat, fingers splayed across it. Castiel hardly felt Dean and merely basked in the afterglow of his second orgasm. Yet Dean was entranced, he watched the bead of red blood on Castiel’s lip. Unable to deny himself Dean leaned down and licked away the droplet then sucked at the tear of Castiel’s skin, whilst keeping Castiel still with his hand on his throat. A brief flare of panic rose up in Castiel as he felt the Sanguis’ tongue push insistently at the cut as he quested for more of his blood. But with a sigh Dean pulled back.

“You taste…”

Castiel closed his eyes and was asleep before he heard the rest.


	2. The Smallest Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel is plagued by thoughts of Dean's clandestine visit last night. He resolves to not let the Sanguis manipulate him again. Yet does his resolve stand when Dean pays him another visit?

The alarm went off, its shrill rings woke Castiel up from his sleep. Immediately he winced at the bright sunlight that streamed in through the open French doors. A cool breeze blew in and raised the hairs on his arm as he reached out to stop the alarm. Castiel sat up in bed and cradled his aching temples; the alcohol thumped angrily in his head and his tongue was so dry that it was closer to sandpaper than flesh. Castiel pushed back the sheets and glanced at the brass antique clock, it read 6:40AM.

Castiel ran his tongue over his lips and tasted something strange on them. Something sweet, like sugar water that clung to his skin, more powerful than the stale acid of the alcohol. Memories of last night flooded into Castiel and he groaned. The Sanguis. That monster from every fledgling’s nightmares had attacked him in the street…then made him orgasm – twice.

Castiel’s stomach flipped. How could something like this happen to him? Sure he was rich and powerful, but there were many more angels out there who had more of both. Michael for instance, if Arch Industries had something to do with it.

Castiel made a quick scan of the room but the Sanguis seemed to be gone, for the moment at least. Castiel slid out of bed; wings drooped with the persistent ache in his body. When he glanced down at himself, he was naked, with tacky semen and sweat that coated his body, evidence of last night. With sluggish movements Castiel staggered over to his full-length mirror and withdrew his breath in a hiss as he noted the bright red cut on his lip.

No one at work would ask him why he had the cut, or why he was particularly tired and fatigued during the course of the day, no one had the courage to be so audacious. For once Castiel thanked his reputation and cool exterior.

Castiel made his way into the spacious ensuite and decided to leave open the door to allow the natural light to filter inside the opulent room. Inside, it was like another room entirely, with hues of gold and warm woods. A chaise lounge sat to the side of the enormous sunken bath, the floors were white marble with plush rugs to provide warmth for his feet and at the end of it all was a large window that looked out onto the private gardens. Castiel opted for the shower, which was disguised as a small room to the side. It was spacious enough for him to stretch his wings as he turned on the hot water and stepped under it. The water tugged gently at his muscles, made him relax, and let the sweat and smell of sex flit from his body and down the drain. Castiel reached for his body wash and rubbed it into his skin. It smelt of lavender and honey. He closed his eyes and let the sweet aromas wrap around him. He sucked in the smell, thought of the honey and unbidden, the Sanguis, Dean came to mind – how his saliva was sweeter than any honey he had ever tasted, how it had consumed him and whited out his mind.

Castiel’s hand whipped out at the handles and he stopped the water. His chest heaved with breaths; his wings were raised and shivered with fright. The Sanguis had invaded his mind. He clapped a hand over his mouth to bottle the wretched moan he felt at the back of his throat. He took a moment, as he stood naked to calm himself.

He would not let the damned creature win. Next time the thing showed his face he would kill it using any means necessary. He would not tell the police, or his brother, or his own body guard come driver Uriel. No, he wanted to get rid of Dean himself. That resolved Castiel opened his eyes and stepped out of the shower. He wrapped a warmed towel around his waist and strode back into his bedroom, back straight, wings firm against his spine. He would not crack; he would not thaw like ice under the Sanguis. He was stronger than that. 

Castiel crossed over to his wardrobe and pulled on his black suit and cobalt tie and finished it off with his signature tan trench coat. As he exited his room, Anna was there waiting for him, her spotted grey wings were raised slightly, defensive, and Castiel ignored her and made for the stairs. Yet he heard her follow after him. “What?” He asked, putting every ounce of distain and irritation into his voice as possible.

Castiel heard the whisper of feathers as Anna touched the edge of one of his black wings. Castiel froze on the stairs and glared over his shoulder. As though burned Anna removed her hand. “Why are you testing my patience?” After all, to touch another angel’s wings was a highly personal thing, a touch shared between lovers or close family, dependent on the type of caress.

Anna moved to the step in front of Castiel and gazed up at him. “What happened to your lip? That wasn’t there last night when I drove you home.”

Castiel shouldered past her, disturbed by her easy touches and remarks. Normally she was not so forward. Perhaps the smell of the Sanguis, it’s liberating and incapacitating scent, had invaded the house.

“Of course it was there Anna. It is not my fault you were unobservant last night.” Uriel was at the door ready for him, the silver glint of the car keys in his dark skinned hand.

“Have the day off today Anna,” Castiel began as he walked through the open doors, “If you continue to pester me today, I’m afraid I would do something I would later come to regret.”

Castiel didn’t need to look to know that Anna was hurt by his words. Normally, she was there at his side everyday to take care of small but important matters. Had been for nearly 6 years, without break. Angels loved to work, to serve and Anna was no different in that respect. 

Yet Castiel couldn’t find it within himself to care as he slipped inside the back of his Aston and slammed the door closed. After the Sanguis, the smallest touch seemed more significant, purposeful, and the idea of Anna touching his wings again in a manner like Dean had last night made him shudder.

Uriel got into the driver’s seat and soon Castiel’s property was put into the rearview mirror. As usual Uriel was silent for the duration of the thirty minute drive, for which Castiel was grateful as he cleared his mind and stared outside at the tall skyscrapers and buildings as they slid past his window. The largest, grandest of all the buildings in New Eden, was of course Arch Industries. Uriel pulled up to the curb and Castiel stepped out onto the bustling pavement. Angels parted around him as they hurried to their respective work places, most bowed their heads to avoid catching his eye. 

The glass doors slid open silently and Castiel’s footsteps echoed in the cavernous space. The ground floor was practically empty. A few guards stood sentry at the security checkpoints and a pretty young blonde angel sat at the reception. There were no plants to give the place vitality, or works of art to give it spirit; there was only glass, light blue paint and harsh white lights. As Castiel walked past the circular ivory reception desk the angel dipped her head low and said with a pleasant smile around her lips, “Good morning Mr. Novak.”

Castiel paid her no mind; this was part of the routine. At the security point Castiel walked through the metal detectors without pause, after all what need did he have of keys and his mobile phone had been lost the previous night. One of the guards was visibly confused by the lack of his phone but did not question it; instead he flattened his copper wings to his back and wished him a good day. 

Castiel went to the elevator and pushed the glass button. There was a quiet, muted chime and the silver doors opened. Angels loved space, to fly, but those things were hard to come by in the city. So the one thing Castiel loved about his job was the elevator. The whole thing was made of glass; the floors, the sides, the ceiling and it hung outside the building and like droplet of condensation it slid up the side of the building to the top floor. Castiel looked down, as the angels on the street became tiny black dots. With a ping the ride stopped at the 184th floor, reserved for the CEO and CFO.

Castiel walked to his side of the floor, the left, and his personal receptionist, Rachel stood up to greet him. “Your brother is in your office with a guest, he-“

 

Castiel didn’t let her finish before he opened the frosted glass doors. He froze in place, long fingers stilled on the door handle. Next to his brother was Lucifer, president of their country United Salvation. Lucifer smiled the smile of a wolf about to devour its prey; his wings were splayed and shone with a gold radiance. The bright flecks in the feathers glowed as the sun that streamed in through the floor to ceiling windows. Castiel finally released the door and let it swing closed behind him. He was underdressed in his suit and tie, he still had a terrible headache and the cut on his lip throbbed. When he shot a glance over at Michael his silver wings were bristled with distain at Castiel’s rumpled appearance. 

Lucifer however, seemed amused by it. “Hello Castiel, did you have a rough night?” His tone was light, friendly. 

Castiel swallowed and deigned to dance around the question. “I am sorry sir, I did not expect to make your acquaintance today.” Castiel was internally grateful that his tongue at least had not betrayed the anxiety that quivered in his breast. 

Lucifer chuckled low in his throat and put a hand on Castiel’s shoulder and guided him gently over to his onyx stone desk. “Not to worry, my visit was of the utmost secrecy, other than a few of my most loyal employees only Michael knew.”

Michael’s storm green eyes followed Castiel carefully, which made him wet his lips before he asked. “How can I help you today sir?”

“Call me Lucifer…and well, I’d like to enter into a contract with Arch Industries. Your R&D department has been developing something I am very interested in.”

Castiel quickly went through the catalogue of developments in his head; a prototype for a commercial jet, a quantum mechanics device that would allow a whole city to live above the clouds…

“Michael knows the details. All you need to know is that we need you to speed up the process of its development, be the spear head of the team. You have all the money and resources you need to make the prototype reality.” Lucifer proposed as he tucked his hands into his white tailored suit. The angel waited, faded blue eyes locked onto Castiel’s face.

“And, the project’s name?” Castiel queried.

“Project Leviathan. A weather control system little brother.” Michael cut in, to which Lucifer hummed his agreement. Lucifer slicked on his best politician’s jovial, strong tone. “Project Leviathan will help the whole nation. We can produce crops much more efficiently, stop natural disasters even.”

Lucifer pushed back his sleeve and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he read the time on his gold faced watch. “I have to go now.” Lucifer stepped in close to Castiel, he leant his wings forwards slightly so that the long flight feathers brushed the backs of Castiel’s legs. Castiel used his own black wings to push the flight feathers away, to show that he would not be dominated so easily. Once again this seemed to delight Lucifer who grinned. “We are relying on you Castiel.”

With those last silken words, Lucifer left the office.

“Little brother, your insolence is incorrigible.“ Michael spat out with venom. Castiel looked away, unable to meet the heat of his brother’s gaze. “You are CFO, my second in command, but you are not indispensible.”

Castiel nodded, cowed, and felt the bones of his wings quiver with subservience. Only Michael had this effect on him, earned from a lifetime of experiences. Castiel had learnt it was better and less painful to simply obey and tamper down his rebellious nature.

Michael used his superior height to sneer down at Castiel. “You have a week, maybe two, to have the project completed. Make all the little worker bees downstairs dance to your fiddle, manipulate our funds – those things at least, you are good at. A glorified accountant.” 

With those words sinking deep under Castiel’s skin, Michael spun on his heel and left the room in a blaze of his trim midnight blue suit and the flash of silver wings, like daggers.

Energy sapped from him, Castiel walked around his desk and sank into his chair; he spun around to face the view. The morning sun still had a way to go before it reached its zenith and already it was a long day.

 

“You okay songbird?”

 

Castiel pushed out of his chair and turned, to come face to face with the Sanguis who leaned his elbows on the onyx desk, ass stuck out behind him. The Sanguis had his chin in his palm and his green eyes followed Castiel’s movements. “Big brother really beat you down, huh?”

With a growl Castiel reached across his desk for the silver letter opener, a neat little blade, and brought it up in front of him. Dean winked up at Castiel but otherwise didn’t move. “You can try if you want but I gotta warn you, I’ll have to show you your place if you do give it a go.”

Castiel slowly rounded the table, knife in hand. “How did you get in here?”

The Sanguis shrugged and pulled himself up to his full height. “The same as you, I used the lift. And did you guys realise you have no security cameras?” Dean paused and put a finger to his lip as though he were deep in thought. “Is it stupidity that stops angels from realizing that fact? Or fear? Cos if that little display with your brother is anything to go by, you’ve got a big yellow streak going up your belly.”

With a snarl Castiel threw himself at Dean, knife raised, and plunged it with a vicious downwards thrust straight into his heart. Dean staggered back and wrapped his hand around the blade; he smiled though it was a fractured mockery of one through the pain. “That was naughty Cas.” He slurred out with a hint of an animalistic growl.

Castiel stared at the embedded blade and watched in horrid fascination as Dean drew it out; blood burbled from the cut and coated the knife. Dean threw it to the ground and as Castiel watched the bleeding stopped and left only a small trickle of blood that stained the front of his green cotton jacket. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Dean bit out, slitted pupils zeroing in on Castiel’s face as it drained of colour. 

Castiel opened his mouth to shout for help, but was silenced by a punch from a fist he hardly saw coming. Castiel stumbled backwards, swore low in Enochian as he cradled his lip, which had begun to bleed again. There was a hand on his shoulder, it spun him around to face the glass and with a feeble cry Castiel felt the cool glass smack into him as he was thrust forwards.

He heard Dean’s hard breath behind him as he sucked in the scent of his blood. Castiel looked down on the rooftops of other buildings and jerked, bucked up against Dean’s body that had him pinned against the glass.

Then there were two sharp pricks on his neck and a hand snaked its way over Castiel’s mouth. Castiel struggled again. Was he going to kill him, drain him of all his blood?   
His suspicion seemed to be confirmed as he felt Dean’s canines sink into his flesh. Castiel screamed into Dean’s warm palm and squeezed his eyes closed, felt the wet drag of blood being sucked from the ragged holes in his neck. His heart was a gong that boomed inside of his chest, his blood was the rush of a waterfall in his ears. He felt himself go weak; the cold glass met his cheek as he collapsed against the window. Finally, after what seemed like an agonizingly long time Dean’s teeth slid free from his flesh. The creature behind him groaned with pleasure and Castiel, in a numb uncaring way, felt Dean’s tongue lap hot against the twin wounds.

“Damn you taste sweet angel. You got some whiskey in your blood from last night as well, its still in here,” Dean punctuated his point as he planted a kiss on Castiel’s neck, “I like that.”

Castiel opened his eyes again and the world seemed too bright, too busy as the clouds scudded past the glass of his office. With a slow tepid drag Dean removed his hand from Castiel’s chapped lips. Castiel let out a tinny sob; the sound took him by surprise. He had never heard such a pathetic noise come from his own mouth.

Dean made little comforting hushing noises behind him and his breath tickled the nape of Castiel’s neck. “I’ll make you feel better.”

The hand that had been on Castiel’s lips sauntered downward and rested lightly on the zipper of Castiel’s trousers. He was too weak to resist, he merely moved his head, let the chill from the glass seep into his temples. “Do you want this songbird?” Dean asked as his thumb flicked the tab of the zip.

“I don’t care.” Castiel whispered and he let his mind go blank. He wished that the glass would fracture that he would hear the keen of spreading cracks, but the glass was too thick, bullet proof, and so the weight of two bodies would make no difference.

Dean licked the sensitive wounds on Castiel’s neck and undid the zipper and his hand found its way inside. His fingers stroked lazily up and down Castiel’s clothed length. Despite himself and to his astonishment Castiel felt himself begin to harden. He bit out a gasp and then drew in a deep inhale. On the air he could smell his blood, metallic but what was infinitely more pleasant was Dean’s smell. He was leather, sugar, cherry and cinnamon; he was clean like rain and crisp like mountain air. Castiel’s hips jerked forward into Dean’s fingers and the Sanguis laughed. “Some angels aren’t particularly receptive to my scent…but you my darling songbird I can feel how hot you are for me. I can hear the blood rushing down…here.” At that final word Dean gave the head of Castiel’s cock a tug, which made Castiel groan.

Castiel lost himself in the scent and the pleasure that escalated in his gut.

His breath misted across the glass as he grew hotter with every pass of Dean’s hand over him. 

Dean let his fingers slip under the black underwear, so that he finally felt the true heat of the angel’s flesh. He was slow in his ministrations, made every gasp strung out and desperate. There was the click of metal as Castiel’s belt buckle was released and the hush of trouser fabric being pushed down. Next Dean pulled Castiel’s underwear down so that his cock was exposed. Dean smiled and let his mouth brush over Castiel’s ear. “Do you care that someone could see you? See you with a Sanguis, its hand on your cock.”

The word Sanguis broke Castiel out of his reverie and he put his palms against the glass tried to push himself away from it. “I care, let me…let me…”

Dean’s hand sped up on Castiel’s cock he angled his head to capture Castiel’s bottom lip between his teeth. He licked along the seam of Castiel’s lip and breathed in the angel’s sighs.

“Let you what angel? Come? I can let you come.” And with that Dean twisted his fingers on the upstroke, let the pad of his thumb glide over the pre-come that had collected on the head – all of which led to a barely contained hoarse cry as Castiel came. His hips bucked and he painted the panes of the window.

Dean stepped back and let his hands drift away from Castiel’s body. Castiel’s trousers and underwear were down at his thighs, the back of his trench coat was wrinkled and a few pearlescent feathers lay scattered on the floor from the brief fight. 

Castiel turned around and dragged his trousers back up, though the tops of his hipbones peeked out from the dark fabric.

Dean whistled low in appreciation at the debauched angel, cheeks dusted with a blush. “I didn’t have to bite you, you know, but…it was worth it wasn’t it?”

Castiel wiped a hand over his nose as though to clear it from pollen. “No, it wasn’t. I didn’t want it.”

There was an exasperated puff from Dean and he dramatically threw back his head and rolled his eyes. “Come on! Don’t tell me you didn’t like it you prude little virgin.” Castiel did up his belt buckle and sat down at his chair. He put his elbows on the table and ducked down his head to smooth back his tousled hair. “There’s a reason for all of this isn’t there Dean? Some end game right?”

Dean took the client chair opposite Castiel and he nodded. “Of course, if I just wanted to play with an angel there are plenty of easier targets…though you are a very pretty angel.” Dean commented with a sly grin. No energy left Castiel only shook his head. “Well then, whatever it is that you want, you’re not getting it. I’ve said that before.”

 

Dean drummed his fingers along the cold stone. “I’m good at getting what I want.”

 

They were disturbed as the phone rang on the table. Castiel shot Dean a glare and picked it up. Dean stood and paced around the room and although the man on the other end of the line had important information to relay, Castiel couldn’t concentrate on him for he felt as if some sort of predatory animal, a tiger or a wolf, circled him. 

Castiel twisted in his chair as much as the attached phone line would allow him, before Dean was in a blind spot behind him. For a few minutes Castiel forgot about Dean and concentrated on the R&D head, Zachariah, as he spoke on the current situation of project Leviathan. 

Suddenly, there were hands on his wings that made Castiel yelp.

_“Sir?”_

“Ah, sorry Zachariah, continue.” He quickly spluttered out as he tried to shift his wings away unsuccessfully.

Dean’s hands threaded themselves through Castiel’s feathers. He let his fingernails rake over the sensitive pale skin that was hidden under them. Castiel closed his eyes, tried to narrow his concentration on the phone. It became harder still when Dean began to massage the sore muscles, the thick cords that controlled the biggest bones and Castiel had to disguise a moan as a cough as he hastily replied to one of Zachariah’s questions. Dean’s fingers dug in and eased away the tension. Soon the phone call was done but Castiel let the tone ring in his ear and so that Dean’s fingernails could rake along his wings. Dean smirked. “There’s something in this for you too you know, if you cooperate with me. I won’t kill you and I can make you feel like this all the time.”

Castiel flared his wings, which pushed Dean off balance and stole a step backwards. Castiel used his sudden anger to wipe away the pleasure that buzzed in his blood. “Get out of my office before I call security. Two chances are all I will give you. After this I will call the police, on that I swear.” 

Dean narrowed his eyes. “That would be a mistake…for you.” Castiel pointed to the door. “Out.”

Dean snarled, curled up his fists at his sides and Castiel’s heart skipped a beat in his chest. He would not lie to himself that this Sanguis terrified him, he was still light headed from the loss of blood and could feel bruises begin to colour his skin - and through it all he had been helpless.

Dean rolled his shoulders in an easy shrug. “Fine.”

Dean opened the door and slipped out of the room. Castiel stood stock still for a moment, expected a horrified screech from his secretary but none was forthcoming, The Sanguis had passed like a ghost into and out of his office. Castiel rested against the table and cradled his head in his hands. He could admit that he was frightened of the creature but Dean’s hands on his wings, on his groin - it had felt _good_. Where Anna’s touch was unwelcome, overly friendly, Dean’s he realised were welcome.

When Dean next came, of that he had no doubt, would he call the police? Castiel sucked his lip into his mouth, tasted the freshly opened cut. He could not answer the question. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler: I don't know the answer to the question yet either. ;)


End file.
